


The Wolf's Tale

by Kitsune9tails



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune9tails/pseuds/Kitsune9tails
Summary: Adelaide is a girl like any other.  One day, she goes to visit her grandmother, on the other side of the forest.  Along the way, she must resist the influence of Herr Wolf, a ne'er-do-well.  A dark retelling of Little Red Riding Hood with psychological elements and ambiguity.
Kudos: 1





	The Wolf's Tale

Blood everywhere. Dripping from snarled, black lips. Teeth with the cold fury of winter snow rending flesh apart. Shadows dance, flickering like a candle’s flame.

Ebony hair and eyes like fire. I rise from my bed more exhausted than when I lay there yesterday. The dreams were getting worse. 

_Well,_ dreams _isn’t exactly accurate, now is it?  
Shut up. Shut up. Push that thought away, Adelaide.   
Don’t even bother. You can never shut me out._  
It’s not there. It’s not real. Time for breakfast.

Me and Mama dine in a heavy silence. I concentrate on my food, avoiding the haunted eyes of meine Mutter. I really miss how close we’d been, before... well, just before. But now she would barely look at me. Her hair was once darker even than mine, but was grey in places from stress, and worn long to hide the scars on her left cheek. I chew my dry, tasteless bread in silence. I miss butter. We used to have a cow, but things change.

_Don’t bother lying, Adelwolf._  
That’s not my name. And don’t talk to me. You’re not real.

“Mama, do you think we might have cheese again soon?” I flash a bright smile to try and lift the mood, but it just seems to startle her.  
“If I can get to the village anytime soon, we might... I’ll see what I can do, meine Mausebär.” A weary smile... is that all you have for your daughter, Mama?

_Maybe it would’ve been kinder to finish what we started..._  
No. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. That was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.  
 _Sure. Keep telling yourself that._  
Everything you say is a lie. 

I want to clasp my hands over my ears, but that would only make him louder. And I can’t let mama know I still hear his howls.

_How long can you keep me hidden? You know, sooner or later, I’ll..._

I stand up sharply; the feet of the chair scraping over the cold stone floor of our kitchen. Mama flinches at my sudden movement. Why, mama? Why do you fear me so?

_You know why._  
Shut up. I have to leave.

“Adelaide? What’s wrong?”  
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m just going out for a little while.” Mama stands too, and brings me a basket laden with a bushel of apples under a quilted blanket. It’s surprisingly heavy.  
“While you’re out, bring these to deine Großmutter?”  
“Yes, Mama.” I nod enthusiastically, grabbing my favourite riding hood from beside the door. It was the colour of roses.

_And blood._  
No. Just roses. Nothing else.

“I don’t want you riding Fitz without me.” She calls from behind me, and for a moment, I hear the love and kindness that used to be in her voice. My shoulders sag under the redoubling weight of my heart.

So she does still care.  
 _Or is she keeping up appearances, you little monster?_  
You’re the monster.  
 _Am I? I’m in_ your _head._  
And that’s where you’ll stay.  
 _For now, perhaps._

I ignore the voice, and smile at my Mama one last time as I step out of the cottage where I grew. The only home I’ve ever known. I walk out to the edge of our clearing, my breath misting in front of me, sparkling in the autumnal morning light. Icy tears sting my cheeks, but I blink them away. I step out into the deepening darkness of the deepening woods. The trees are tall and straight; the first branches high above me; like bars on a cage. 

Don’t go getting cold feet now.  
“I’m not listening to you.”  
 _Ah, so you can speak. I do so miss our little chats._  
“I don’t. Just be quiet while I take these to Oma.”  
 _I don’t feel like it. What’s in it for me?_  
I...  
 _Speak up, now. Don’t go silent on me just when we’re becoming friends._  
“You’re not my friend, Herr Wolf.”  
 _Then why should I play nice? I could come out at any time. I’d love to play with the children again._  
“We had to leave the village because you wanted to play.”  
 _So you_ do _remember._  
No. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!

I hear him sulking but I force him out of my mind and march onwards briskly.

The ground is soft and wet with fallen leaves, puddles of rain, and small patches of early snow. For a moment, I allow myself to be a child again, dancing as I dart from place to place, avoiding the sleet and snow that would occasionally fall from the canopy so far above. I started giggling, without thinking, my eyes lit up, my cheeks rosy with glee, and my face stretched wide for my honest smile. The cold hurts my teeth, but I don’t mind.

_Having fun, there?_  
“Please. Just leave me alone.” It’s too late, my face has already fallen. Forgetting any desire to play, I trudge along, deeper into the forest. The shadows loom deeper around me, and as the snow begins to fall, I do little to acknowledge its presence.

In time, we come to a fork in the road. One would lead to the house of meine Großmutter, and the other would wind away, miles through the forest, before going down into the village. I pause, and consider my options. I could leave the forest, never again risk the lives of my family, perhaps even find a way to silence Herr Wolf, but forever be in danger of him coming out to hurt total strangers. Or I could continue to live a lie, push him down into my mind, keep him buried there, stay with Mama, and Oma in my beautiful forest, but always risk losing control.

_Let me make it easier for you, dearest Adelwolf. You are not in control of anything I do. All you have to do is close your eyes..._  
“I’m not listening.”  
 _...and I’ll be right at your side. I’ll always protect you, and you’ll never be alone._  
“I’d rather be alone than have your protection.”  
 _One day, I think you’ll ask for it. Look over there! In the shadows, that man, does he want to hurt you?_

I look out into the shadows and for a moment I see a towering figure far away, many times taller than me, and looming strangely through the trees. Eyes glowing like fairies in the smoke. I shake the image away, and see that there is no one there.

“Stupid wolf, trying to trick me.”  
 _There’s no need to be like that. Now, choose your path, and walk it._

I stand there, numbly waiting for one path or the other to disappear, or engulf me. 

_There is a third option, you know. Take neither path. Get lost in the woods. Die. It’s the only way to be truly free of me._  
“Shut up. You think I’d just go off and die?”  
 _You would if you really cared about deine Mutter, or about deine Großmutter. Oh. I just thought of another option. Option four is this; allow me to take over, and you’ll never have to worry about anything again._   
“Why would I do that? All you want to do is eat people.”  
 _I can’t help it if I get bored._

A flash of teeth crosses my vision, and I know he is smiling.

_Come on, now, Adelwulf. Winter draws ever near, and Oma must be cold without that blanket._

Hearing this, I take the right fork, leading out of the woods.

_Oh, so you would let her freeze to death? I never knew you could be so cruel, Adelaide. But walking this way, I do get to see the townsfolk. Those curious little people scurrying about their little lives; how quaint. How long has it been? Do you think they still remember me?_

I bite my lip, and turn off the path, Herr Wolf laughing in my ears. I start marching in no particular direction, and marvel at just how quickly the trees shift closer together. The ground gets more and more treacherous with every step. I nearly trip on a particularly large root, and his laughter echoes louder. The next root is so large I have to awkwardly clamber over it; raising one leg until it is parallel to the ground, and nearly flipping over. There is a frightening moment where both feet are off the ground, and I don’t know where to put my weight. I land in a heap on the other side, with an audible thud. Raucous laughter echoes behind me, louder than ever. I stand up, and my legs sting from scrapes and scratches, my skirt covered in mud, and leaves caught in my stockings. I brush myself off as well as I can, and press onwards. For some reason, I’m still carrying my basket for Oma. The next root is a little taller than I am, and the trees are so close that I can feel their warmth, so there’s no way around it other than to climb over. I push my basket up onto the root, where it balances. I place my hands on the highest part I can reach, and heave myself up, scrambling with my legs; struggling to find any purchase. Once I’ve made my way up, I crouch, and wobbling, attempt to stand.

_Don’t fall._ Proclaims the mocking voice. I pick up my basket and make my way to the trunk. Once there, I reach out with the toe of my shoe for the next root. I just barely grip it, before my foot slips, and I cling to the tree for dear life as I return my foot to my centre. I inch closer to the edge of my root, and reach my foot out again. This time I’m able to find grip, and with all my strength I launch myself over the gap. My foot slips out from underneath me, and I cry out as I fall, hitting my head on the mercifully soft ground, and losing several apples along the way. It still hurt though, but not as much as Herr Wolf’s laughter hurt my pride. There is a muddy embankment on which I slip and slide for a while before reaching the top. It covers much of the next root, and the way I’ve chosen gets a little easier. Until the trees get closer still, and I am almost squashed trying to pass them.

_If you need a little help, don’t be afraid to ask._  
“How can you help me? You’re not even real.”  
 _Oh, aren’t I now? So we’re back to that old chestnut. Maybe I’m_ not _real_  
“Aha.”  
 _But if I’m not, then huhh! All those terrible things we did together were you all along._  
“That’s not true at all.”  
 _Well, which is it?_

I ignore him and press on. What’s that smell? Sawdust? And that sound...  
 _Someone’s chopping wood, dear. Don’t play coy._  
Indeed, someone is. Even a liar must tell the truth sometimes.  
 _It wasn’t a lie when I said I’d protect you. If you die, I die, so it’s in my best interests. And don’t use your lips when you speak to me._  
I don’t want anyone to hear me talking to you.  
 _Oh, how you wound me._  
Be quiet.

I walk towards the sound of chopping wood and see a tall woodcutter with red hair and a full beard. He has a stocky figure, and is clad almost entirely in what looks like bearskin. He has the quiet demeanour of someone who hasn’t spoken to another living soul in years. There is something strange about his eyes, though. Something cold.

_Adelaide, we should leave. Turn back now, or I guarantee one of us will be dead by the end of it._  
You never use my proper name, Herr Wolf. But I don’t think he’s dangerous. You’re just trying to trick me.

But before I can decide either way, he sniffs the cold air, looks up from his work, and sees me.  
“It’s dangerous to be out here all alone. Where is deine Mama?” When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough, like sandpaper drawn over rough-hewn rocks. I step out from behind the trees and into the clearing. Here, the trees are far enough apart that you can see the clear, grey sky, and the ground is thick with snow. “What are you doing here? Is anyone with you?”  
“I... I’m bringing apples to meine Oma.”  
“Does she live far from here?” He starts walking towards me, and I back into the nearest tree.  
“I’m not sure. I think I might have gotten a little lost.” Somehow, his face lights up, yet also darkens. It is not the smile of one who would want to help me. A cruel, predatory smile. The kind I see in every mirror. He peers down at me, scrutinising me thoroughly.  
“Oh? That’s such... a shame.” A sense of dread fills my stomach as he steps uncomfortably close.  
 _Run, you stupid girl._  
“I can’t.” He reaches out a hand towards me. I tremble, cowering against the earth.  
 _Let me help you. All you have to do is ask._ Tears spill down my face.  
“Please. Help me.” I close my eyes. Then there is darkness. I open my eyes, and everything is red. I am lying in blood-drenched snow. My hands and mouth are sticky. He is... everywhere. Little pieces. Some of him is missing. His head is to the left of me, eyes frozen in unspeakable dread, mouth agape with unknowable horror. The axe is to my right, buried in his severed leg. Part of his torso is ahead of me, and part behind me. The ribs bend and reach out at odd angles, strips of haggard flesh dangling off them. Some of him was clearly chopped up, and some of him seems to have been torn apart. His heart is in my lap, large and healthy, but for the large bites taken out of it.  
 _Thank you, little one. I haven’t had fun like that in ages._  
“Why, Herr Wolf? Why did you go so far?”  
 _I only did what you asked me. Besides, if you knew the things he was going to do to you... well, you’d think he got off easily. Now, shall we go visit Oma?_  
“Please, please don’t hurt meine Oma.”  
 _Hmm... I’ll tell you what. You let me out every so often, once a month, say, and I’ll leave you alone unless you actually want to talk to me. I won’t hurt deine Mutter und Großmutter at all. Do we have a deal?_  
“And you’d let me sleep again? You’d let me forget?”  
 _Well, that’s a bit far... oh, you drive a hard bargain. Heh heh heh. Very well. You won’t even have to know, how’s that?_  
I nod my head, wearily.  
 _I want to hear you say it._  
“Yes, Herr Wolf. I accept.” I wash my hands and face in the snow, finding my clothes surprisingly clean. What little was left could easily be passed off as berry juice. I stand, gather my basket, and skip off to Oma’s house, together with my friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a while ago, and I decided to upload it here. I'm thinking about uploading more original works, as well as fan works. I'm also thinking about starting a patreon as a way of motivating myself to write more, and allowing my readers to support me, if they so deign. Nothing I write would be behind a paywall, but maybe I'll take requests from patrons as a tier reward. That's about all I can do with my level of technical know-how. This is not yet decided, and I would appreciate any feedback on the notion in the comments below. It will help me decide. Either way, I'll keep writing, and I hope to have the next chapter of Foxfire available soon. Thanks for reading, and take care.


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